This is a frightful, terrible pulp novel. You wouldn't be able to buy it in a train station, but you might in an airport. That's how low it is. Another example of this lowness is the recommendation on the front from Jilly Cooper herself. Now, if I ever had a book recommended by Jilly Cooper I'd bury the recommendation and pray that it never saw the light of day. I certainly wouldn't go slapping it on the front cover. But there you go, that's Kathy Lette, and lette's get onto the actual story.

God, what a frightful story. This Aussie chick meets and falls in love with an Englishman. (Bad first step.) She moves to England and into a flat with him. (Dangerous.) She discovers that he's married with two kids. (Mad dogs and...) She discovers that she's pregnant.

That takes the first 133 pages. Afterwards comes two missed abortion appointments, closely followed by loss of man, loss of flat, loss of money, unemployment, best friend packing up and, finally, a psychotic, sterile, potential baby-snatcher. And after that the best friend comes back, miraculously employed, and takes the Aussie under her wing. And the story ends.

The language is also terrible. It's clunky and ungraceful. I can't find any relevant examples without re-exposing myself to more of the wretched novel than I care to. Just take my word for it - she's not as bad as ol' Silly Jilly, but not much better.

In fact, I don't even want to waste any more file space on this book. Sue Townsend says, "Buy this book". I say, "Incinerate it immediately afterward".